Another Excerpt...

There was an ocean of difference between England and the rest of Europe.

Spain, for example, went near mad each year over the outcome of the “Best-Dressed Empire” award. The English, though sharply outfitted and wig wearing, were not so fickle. They had boycotted the annual ceremony for decades, ever since Sir Preston Balls IV made a drunken ass out of himself & England, crashing the acceptance speech of Portugal’s impeccable Joao Crustacean.

Slobbering over the podium, and waving his silver Tara Brooch around like a magic wand, Balls made his sizzling grievance known to the fashion world: “Portugalzzz no em…aaah!!…PIRE! My Nana, Maude BALLS, god ressss her soul, had more imperial swagger in her left tea finger than these…PORTugeese…haha!…have in that whole blasted COUNTRY. And another thing: the Water Dog ain’t shit!!!”

A fleet of Polish mercenary security guards rushed poor Balls and tackled him to the ground, like Troy Aikman caught naked in the pocket.

The English didn't save face, and never showed their faces again.